


Demon Deals

by Jld71



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anger, Angst, Demon Deals, Drinking, Fights, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-04 21:43:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17312384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jld71/pseuds/Jld71
Summary: Sam is still mourning the death of Jessica, despite the years that have passed. In his anger, he blames Dean for her death. Dean makes a sacrifice for Sam.





	Demon Deals

**Author's Note:**

> Do Not Re-Post Without My Written Permission - Only To Be Posted On My AO3 Or LiveJournal Accounts.
> 
> This was written for a challenge that never ended up taking place that emmatheslayer & I teamed up for.  
> Author: jdl71  
> Artist: emmatheslayer  
> Beta: jj1564

 

Demon Deals

 

Sam walked into the motel room, letting the door swing shut behind him, not caring that Dean was behind him and had yet to enter the room.

 

Dean kicked the door open with his foot before it had fully closed on him. “Dude, what crawled up your ass?”

 

Sam turned to him and shot him a bitch face. 

 

Dean countered with an eye roll.

 

“Seriously! You have no idea why I’m pissed at you?” Sam asked as he turned his back on his brother and angrily tossed his duffle bag on the bed he’d claimed as his. 

 

“What is it now Sammy? What, I didn’t kill the demon the way you would have? Should I have ganked it more humanely?” Dean asked as he sank down on his bed.

 

Sam whirled around, his hands motioning widely in the air as he stepped into Dean’s space, appearing to tower over his brother. “I’m sick of your shit! I’m just as good a hunter as you are. Yet, you always think I need rescuing. I had it covered!” Sam waved his hands at Dean. “I was about to kill the demon.”

 

“I’m sorry Sammy, I did what I had to do.” Dean shrugged his shoulders.

 

“You always do that!” Sam spat out at him. “You always treat me like a child. I’m not a child anymore Dean. I’m a grown-ass man and I’m not your responsibility anymore.” Sam stepped away from Dean as Dean stood and tried to place a hand on his shoulder. He knew Dean meant to comfort him, to ease the sting he felt, but he didn’t want that.

 

“We’re family.”

 

“No, Dean you don’t get to use that line on me. You always throw that at me like it’s supposed to mean something. Like it’s gonna fix everything between us. Well, it’s not. Not this time.”   

 

Dean stood in front of Sam, letting his younger brother rant at him. The thought occurred to Dean, that Sam had been ranting at him more and more; for something as little as ordering him coffee when Sam had stepped away from whatever diner they had been sitting in to right now. He had no idea why Sam was so pissed. He was just doing what he always did, protecting his little brother. It was his job. Sure, Sam bristled at that from time to time, but never had a full-on freak out at him, not like this.

 

“Sam, what’s this all about really? Because there’ve had times before when one of us has hesitated and the other has stepped up,” Dean ground out, trying not to sound like a dick when his brother was already going off the rails. 

 

Sam threw his hands up in frustration. He eyed Dean and wondered to himself, what wasn’t Dean getting? Was he playing at being thick-headed, or was he really this dense? “Nothing, never mind,” he muttered, as he turned away from Dean and stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door so hard it rattled. He heard someone banging on the wall and a muffled ‘keep it down’ coming from the room next to theirs. Great, just great, he thought, now they had managed to draw attention to themselves. “Fuck,” he breathed out. He wanted to punch something. No, he wanted to punch Dean, squarely in the face. As he looked at himself in the mirror - he had to admit, he really had no idea why he was so angry, why everything Dean did irritated him. Well, that wasn’t quite true. He had an inclination as to why he was like this. He needed some space. They had been cooped up together for too long. Even when they were in the bunker, they were always dancing around each other. He was fed up with it - with everything that came with this life, including Dean. 

 

With a heavy sigh, he turned on the shower. As he waited for the water to heat, he stripped off his clothes before getting in to wash away the day’s grime from his skin. He bent his head under the hot water, letting it beat down over his tired muscles. He lost himself in his thoughts, ones he rarely allowed himself to dwell on. He knew the real reason he was like this - so quick to go on the attack, especially with Dean - it was coming up on the anniversary of Jess’ death. He should have realized it sooner. Maybe if he had, he could have begged out of this last hunt. Cas could have gone in his place and he could have been back at the bunker, alone dealing with the sense of loss he still felt after all this time. It wasn’t until the water ran cold, that he finally reached out and turned it off. He pushed aside the shower curtain, reached for a towel and dried himself off. He looked around for his sweats, only to realize they were in his duffle bag - the one he had thrown onto the bed when he was having his little fit. He let out a loud groan before wrapping the towel around his waist and pulling the bathroom door open. 

 

He stepped out into the cooler air of the bedroom and shuddered. He saw Dean look up at him from the small kitchenette he was sitting in, beer bottle in one hand, the other working the keys of his laptop. Sam couldn’t help the scowl that crossed his face. Dean. If Dean hadn’t dragged him back into this shitty life he was living now, he’d be a lawyer. He’d be with Jess. Not caring that Dean was in the room, he fished out his sweats, dropped the towel and got dressed - it wasn’t like they hadn’t seen each other’s bodies in various stages of undress before.

 

“Dude!” Dean let out when his eyes caught sight of Sam’s naked ass and watched as Sam slightly turned to him. “Bathroom. Or, are you going the nudist route now? If so, you better let Cas know, he’ll probably want to join you. He still doesn’t understand the concept of clothing. He’d probably love the idea of wandering around the bunker without clothes.” Dean quipped to his brother, only to have Sam turn his back on him as he climbed into bed, turning off the bedside lamp and pulling the blankets up over himself. 

 

Dean threw Sam a hurt look, which went unnoticed. He shook his head, not understanding Sam’s reaction to him. He tossed his empty beer bottle into the trash, closed his laptop, got up and went into the bathroom to wash up before getting ready for bed. He groaned when he realized that his duffle bag with his sweats were in the other room. No way in hell was he dropping trousers like Sam had. It didn’t matter if they were brothers, he would just go out there, get his clothes, come back in and change - like an adult.

 

When he returned to the bedroom, he found Sam sitting up in bed, the light back on and something in his hand.

 

“What’s that?” He asked as he settled himself on the bed. Sam shrugged him off, not answering him. “Come on Sammy, how long you gonna pull this crap with me?” He leaned over trying to see what Sam had. 

 

“Like you give a shit,” Sam said in a low voice. He held up the picture that was in his hand - the one of Jess he had kept. If Dean could keep pictures of their mother and father, he was entitled to keep this. His eyes narrowed as he looked over at Dean before he looked down at Jess’ face smiling back at him from the photo. It was worn in places where he had rubbed over the surface. He felt the rage he kept tamped down rising. He knew he was ready to explode if he wasn't careful, and right now he didn't feel much like being careful about what he felt or what he said or who he hurt.

 

“Course I care,” Dean shot back at him. Where the hell was this coming from, he wondered. He always put Sam first, always worried about his safety. He may not care about his own safety, whether he lived or died, but he always took care of Sam. Sam knew that.

 

“Right, like when you cared so much that you decided to drag me back into this life when you knew I was out. I had a life, Dean. One that didn't involve Dad, you or hunting. I was happy being away from this life. But no, you couldn't be alone once Dad disappeared. So, you came for me, and stupidly I went. It was only supposed to be for the weekend. Some weekend, huh Dean?” Sam waved his hands in front of himself. The picture he had been holding flying out of his hands and landing at Dean’s feet. 

 

Dean bent down to pick up the picture. He looked at it, eyes growing wide as he realized what he was holding; a picture of Jess. He swallowed several times before he stood and handed the picture back to Sam. Now he understood where all of this was coming from. “So, this is about Jess’ death,” he said, matter-of-factly. He knew all about the loss of a loved one. He had made the decision to give up Lisa and Ben - for their safety as well as his and Sam’s. No supernatural being would be able to use them against him. Sam had needed him when he’d come back from Hell. And, if he was honest with himself, he needed Sam. 

 

“Yeah, finally figured it out?” Sam snorted at him. “Wow, you’re so astute,” Sam said as he threw back the covers and stood in front of Dean. “You’re the reason she’s dead. You’re the reason my life sucks. Every time I find a little happiness for myself, you fuck it up for me.” Sam felt himself shaking with rage. He couldn’t contain it any longer. It was eating him alive and he had to let it out. “I hate this life. But, I’m here because of you. You can’t ever be alone. Whenever something’s happened to separate us, you find a way to worm your way back to me. Hell, you couldn’t even let me die. You had to strike a deal, bring me back. Yeah, you said it was for me,” Sam said, placing a hand on Dean’s chest and pushing him away. “In reality it was for you. You wanna know why I didn’t look for you when you were in Purgatory? Because I was finally free of you. I could finally breathe without you looking over my shoulder. I carved out a little piece of happiness, sure it wasn’t with Jess, but I was happy. But, no, you came back. You even had the balls to be mad at me for not searching for you! I didn’t search for, didn’t try to get you back because I didn’t want you back. And yet here I am again!” Sam yelled, he heard the heat in his voice, but that didn’t stop him even when he saw the hurt filter into Dean’s green eyes. “I figured I finally had a chance at living a life without you. But, no you just don’t stay dead, you don’t stay gone. At least when Dad died, he had the good sense to stay dead, Mom too. Why couldn’t you?” He knew his words would hurt Dean, but he just didn’t care at the moment. He needed someone else to hurt the way he did.

 

Dean knew that Sam held some resentment towards him from time to time, but he had never thought it was this bad. All he could do was stand there, mouth drawn into a tight line as he listened to Sam’s words and felt the hurt Sam dealt him. He didn’t show his emotions, he didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve like Sam did, but he still felt things. 

 

“You’re such a hypocrite, you know that!” Sam said, resting his hands on his hips. “You killed my friend Amy, even when you said you’d leave it alone. You called her a monster, that was your reason for doing what you did. But, when it came to Benny, you had so many excuses for letting him live as long as you did. But, he was a monster, too. Right Dean?”

 

“Christ Sammy, how many times do I have to say I’m sorry?” Dean retorted. “And I killed him for you, you ungrateful son-of-a . . .”

 

Before he knew what he was doing, Sam balled his hands into fights, drew back his right arm, and with as much force as he could muster, he punched Dean in the face. He felt his knuckles connect with Dean’s jaw. He saw his brother stagger back, more out of shock than from the punch. Dean was a Winchester, he knew how to take a punch as well as throw one. But he felt satisfaction wash over him briefly as he made contact with Dean’s jaw. It wasn’t enough, it didn’t take away his pain. If anything, it helped to fuel it. 

 

Dean felt his feet slipping as Sam’s fist connected with his face. He stumbled back in shock. Sam had punched him. He shook his head to clear it from shock and the impact of the punch. He worked his jaw where Sam’s knuckles had hit, nothing was broken. He raised his hand, rubbed it along the side of his face. As angry as he was with Sam and the punch, he held himself in check. Right now wasn’t the time to trade blows with his brother. He knew he’d have a bruise the size of Sam’s fist there in the morning. It would be worse if he didn’t ice it right away. He turned away from Sam, grabbed the ice bucket he had filled earlier and dumped the remaining ice out onto one of the motel towels. “You done now, Sammy?” He knew he was egging him on by calling him Sammy, but he just couldn’t stop himself right now, his anger and hurt were getting the best of him. If Sam wanted to tussle, he’d give as good as he got. 

 

“I hate you,” Sam spat out at Dean. His hazel eyes flashed with anger, his nostrils flared, and his chest heaved as he breathed in heavily. “I’ve hated you for so long. It should have been you. Azazel should have burned you, not Jess. She was the one good thing in my life. I loved her, still do. You are nothing but a weight around my neck, dragging me down. Maybe instead of fighting Azazel, I should have joined him. I should’ve given in to Lucifer and not jumped into the hole. I should have let Lucifer wear my meatsuit. At least I wouldn’t be around anymore to deal with your bullshit!” Rationally, he knew Dean wasn’t to blame for what had happened to Jess, but in the heat of the moment, he didn’t care. He just needed someone who was alive to blame.

 

“Sam, come on. You don’t mean that . . .”

 

Sam focused his eyes on Dean, cutting his brother off from what he was saying. “But I do. Next time you die, do me a favor, stay dead or stay the hell away from me,” Sam said coolly to Dean. He turned and stalked off to the bathroom, slamming the door closed without a care to the occupants in the next room or Dean.

 

 

Dean let the makeshift ice pack fall from his hand. He had his pride, but what Sam had just said to him cut through that. Those words pierced his heart as if Sam had taken an actual knife to him. Hell, it probably wouldn’t have hurt as much if Sam had actually stabbed him. He never really showed his emotions, never talked about how he felt. Their father had instilled that in him. He had to be the good little soldier, take orders, never question, never waiver from the mission, never show weakness or emotion - that could get you killed. But now he felt those emotions rushing to the surface. He felt hot tears pricking at his eyes. Sam blamed him for Jess’ death, for everything that had gone wrong in his life. Maybe Sam was right?

He turned away from the closed bathroom door, grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair he had placed it on and walked out of the motel room, quietly closing the door behind him. He walked over to the Impala. He needed to get in, hear the purr of the engine and drive. He’d give Sam time to calm down, let him come to his senses. Then . . . then what? He had no clue how to diffuse the situation. He had no idea how to fix what was so obviously broken between them, or what was broken in Sam. He was out of his depth and it scared him.

Putting the car into drive, he pulled out of the motel parking lot, not really caring if he went left or right. He drove without any real direction or destination in mind. He just needed to get away from Sam and the hurt. He needed to try to distance himself from Sam’s hurt and his own. But, deep down he knew he could never outrun either. He slammed his hand against the steering wheel. “Shit!” He screamed out to the empty night. His vision shifted, something was obscuring it. He reached up to wipe at his eyes only to realize that he was crying. With that realization, he pulled the car off to the side of the road, cut the engine and leaned back against the seat. “What do I do?” Dean asked the silent night, hoping an answer would be revealed, even though he knew nothing would be forthcoming. He dragged his hands across his face, wiping the tears and pain away before pulling the car back onto the road. 

Dean drove aimlessly for a while before stopping at an all-night diner. As he walked in and grabbed a table, he eyed the occupants. The staff consisted of three people; a cook, a dishwasher and a waitress. There were four others in the diner already seated and hunched over their food. From the looks of it, they seemed to be long-haul truckers. He sat with his back to the wall, wary that he was alone with no one to watch his back should something demonic arise. He looked up and smiled as the waitress approached him.

“Hey sugar, what can I get you?”

He glanced at the specials written on a chalkboard by the door before answering. “Just coffee, black,” he said. His stomach was in knots and he didn’t feel like forcing food down his throat. 

“Sure thing,” she said as she walked away to grab a clean mug and the coffee pot. She returned with both, placed the cup in front of him and poured the steaming hot liquid to the rim of the cup. “Anything else, or are you all set for now?”

“I’m good, thanks.” He watched as she walked away to check on the other customers. Maybe it was because he was tired and overwrought with emotion, but the waitress reminded him of Jessica. She was tall, long-legged, slim, blonde and pretty. While she really looked nothing like Jess, her presence still had him doing a double-take and his breath quickened. He closed his eyes, willing himself to relax. His mind whirled with thoughts. How could he make things right with Sam? How could he get Sam to forgive him? Would Sam really ever forgive and forget?

A tapping sound brought him back to his senses and he looked up to find the waitress - Tina - standing next to him. He hadn’t even noticed her. Shit, he wasn’t on his game. 

“You okay? You look so sad,” She gave him a sympathetic smile.

“Yeah, just got a few things on my mind.” Dean replied, trying his best to return her smile.

“What’s her name?” She saw the look of surprise that crossed his face. “Oh, come on, a good-looking guy like you, it’s gotta be a girl that’s causing you trouble.”

“No, it’s my brother,” Dean sighed. “We had a fight - a really bad one. He, Sam, said some things. . .”

“Oh, I’m sorry, that’s rough. Family is all we got in life, you know?” She stopped and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Family can hurt you, really hurt you. You can’t let this go, whatever it was. You gotta fix it. But, that’s just my two cents on whatever happened.” She turned and walked back to the counter, leaving him with his thoughts, only to return once more and place a plate in front of him. 

He looked up at her, confusion on his face as he looked at her and then back down at the plate containing a generous piece of apple pie with whipped cream. “I didn’t order this,” he said quietly.

“It’ll help with what ails you, trust me. My momma used to help solve all my big problems over a piece of pie. It’s on the house,” she said as she left him to wait on a customer that had motioned for her attention. 

With a shrug, he picked up his fork and broke off a piece of the pie. He slid the pie into his mouth and gave a little moan around the fork as the burst of flavor hit his mouth. By the time he’d finished his pie and coffee, he’d formulated a plan and was busy looking through his contacts. He needed an item to complete his plan - one he knew wasn’t in the trunk of the Impala. There wasn’t anyone he knew in the immediate area that had what he needed so he settled on the next best thing, a local dealer of the supernatural he hoped would work with him despite the hour it was. 

Now feeling better with a plan that he hoped would solve everything, he slid out of the booth and tossed down enough money to cover his coffee, the pie (even though it was on the house) and a generous tip. He nodded to Tina as he walked by her to leave.

“You figure things out, sugar?” She asked concern showing on her face for him.

“Yeah, I did,” he said as he smiled at her. “Thanks,” he called over his shoulder as he left the diner to pay a visit with the dealer he’d found online.

Sam stood in the bathroom, feeling his heart beating rapidly. It beat so fast that he thought it would beat right out of his chest. He gripped the counter, felt the cold Formica under his fingertips. He looked at himself in the mirror; his hair was a mess, his eyes blown out with anger, his mouth turned down in a scowl. He didn’t look like himself, he looked like . . . a monster. He stumbled back, his legs hitting the toilet and he allowed himself to sink down. He ran his fingers through his hair. He needed to calm down. He felt his breathing return to normal as the adrenalin drained from his body. When he felt like he was more in control of himself, he stood and crossed back to the sink to splash cold water on his face. With a heavy sigh, he grabbed the doorknob and pulled the bathroom door open. He stepped out only to find the motel room empty. “Dean!” Sam called out, despite knowing he was alone. He crossed to the door and threw it open. He was met with darkness and the empty spot the Impala had been parked in. 

Closing the door, he walked to the chair he had thrown his jacket over and searched for his phone. He fished it out and punched in Dean’s number knowing what would most likely happen, and as expected, his call went unanswered. With a nod, he hung up; he’d give Dean some time to come back.

He fell back onto the bed, sitting as he tossed his phone down next to himself. He thought over the past hour and the things he had said to Dean. Those were things he’d never allowed himself to entertain. Where had all this rage come from? He knew he still wasn’t over Jess’ death, he never would be. But, rationally he knew Dean wasn’t the cause. Things had played out the way they were meant to be. He’d been on Azazel’s radar long before Jess had ever come into his life. He let his body drop back against the bed and raised his hands to cover his face. “What the fuck did I just do?” Sam asked the empty room. 

Three hours had gone by without any sign of Dean’s return. Normally, he wouldn’t worry, but after everything that had gone down between them, he knew this was a bad sign. He grabbed his phone and dialed Dean’s number again. His call was met with voicemail. There was only one thing he could do, he’d keep calling until Dean answered. With determination, he got up and went to his laptop and pulled it open. He waited for the screen to boot up before working his fingers over the keys. He found the program he was looking for - the find your phone app - and activated it. Now all he could do was wait for Dean to turn his phone on and answer his call. He dialed again and again, not stopping until Dean finally answered. “Dean,” he breathed out.  

 

 

“Don’t worry about me Sam, I got this covered.” Dean replied, before hanging up on Sam. He turned the phone off, took out the SIM card and tossed it onto the seat beside him. He didn’t want or need Sam interfering with his plan. 

Meanwhile, Sam stared at his phone, and then at his laptop as the pinging sound caught his attention. For the brief time he’d had Dean on the phone, he’d been able to track his location. He knew it wasn’t an exact location, just his general whereabouts, but it would do for now. He grabbed his jacket and left the motel. “Fuck!” He bellowed out. Dean had their only car. Looking around the parking lot, he noticed a nondescript four-door car at the edge of the lot and strode over to it. He looked around to make sure no one was around before he tried the door. He was in luck - the door was unlocked. He snorted as he flipped down the visor and the keys slid down at him. His luck was holding out, maybe he could get to Dean and smooth things over, try to fix what he had broken.

He started the car and pulled out of the parking lot, pointing the car in Dean’s direction. He put his foot to the gas pedal and pressed, urging the car forward with as much speed as it could muster. He had to get to Dean. He knew Dean was wallowing in self-loathing thanks to his callous and hurtful words. This was all his fault; whatever Dean was doing was because of him. He shook his head, determined to clear his thoughts and get to Dean before he did something he would regret. Sam was already carrying enough regret for them both. 

Dean pulled up to the crossroads he had found and parked off to the side of the road. He breathed deeply, trying to calm himself down. He looked over at the empty seat - the seat that Sam usually occupied, and his breath hitched. The ramifications of what he was about to do hit him. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind along with the fear that was snaking in his stomach and focused on his task at hand. He reached over to the glove box and popped it open. He let his hand fall to the seat before reaching out to take the object he needed into his shaking hand. “Christ, get a grip,” he muttered to himself. 

What little light that glowed from the glove box cast him in a soft light. He caught his reflection in the rear view mirror; he was pale - paler than normal. His freckles stood out, normally he never really paid much attention to them, but now they shocked him at how prominent they were. His eyes were wide, the green nearly eclipsed by the blackness of his pupils in the darkness of the car’s interior. With a shaky breath, he finally reached over and grabbed the small box he had filled earlier with the ritual items - a picture of himself from one of his fake ID’s, a blackened cat bone, graveyard dirt and yarrow. Thankfully, they had the last two items on hand as they were both used in several common summoning spells he and Sam used from time to time. The blackened cat bone had been a little trickier; he had to track down a guy in town that neither he nor Sam knew in order to get it. He didn’t want or need anyone blabbing to Sam. So, at one in the morning, he’d found himself pounding on the door of some guy’s home to get what he needed. The guy hadn’t been too happy to help until Dean had made it worth his while - cash was always a motivator. 

He sat with the box clutched to his chest. For a moment fear crept up on him. Was he doing the right thing? Was this even a choice he should be considering? He nodded his head yes. This was the only choice he had. He had to make things right for Sam, no matter the consequences to himself. He didn’t matter. He never had in the scheme of things. It was Sam that mattered, he had since the day he’d come into this fucked up world. He had been charged with the care and safety of Sam when he had only been four years old. It was one hell of a gig for a child of that age and he’d been doing it every day since.

But now, he’d seen how he’d fucked it all up. He finally saw how he had made that fateful decision to drag Sam back into this God forsaken life - a hunter’s life. His selfish choice to have his brother back with him had put Jessica on Azazel’s radar. If he hadn’t shown up needing ‘help’ in finding their wayward father, Sam would still be living his apple pie life. He would have stayed at Stanford, graduated law school, passed the bar and married Jess. He’d be living in suburbia; a nice house surrounded by a picket fence, two kids and a dog or two.

He hadn’t given any thought to what Sam might have wanted. He just showed up, disrupting Sam’s life. The only thought in his mind was that he wanted Sam back with him like when they were kids. They had been inseparable back then - Bobby had called them thick as thieves. He pushed his past to the back of his mind where it belonged. There was no reason to remember the past. After this, the past would be gone; he would be the only one to hold the memories.

He reached out and pushed the car door open, taking the keys from the ignition with him. He closed the door and placed the box on the roof of the car before opening the trunk to grab the shovel he needed. He walked to the middle of the crossroads and dug a hole in the soft earth. He was thankful that the crossroads he’d been able to locate had been in an old farming community not far from the center of town and the motel they’d been staying at. Since the community was now abandoned, no one had ever seen the need to pave out here. When the hole was dug - it didn’t need to be very deep or wide - he returned the shovel to the trunk, closed it and grabbed the box. Hesitantly, he walked over to the hole, bent down and placed the box into the hole and then kicked dirt into it, covering the box.

“Dean,” Crowley’s voice cut through the air.

Dean’s head snapped up, surprise showing on his face that the King of Hell himself had shown up to strike this deal with him.

“Crowley,” Dean rasped out, his voice harsh from not speaking to anyone but himself for a while. “What the Hell you doing here?” He raised an eyebrow as he looked at the demon standing in front of him. 

“Dean, darling, you don’t write, you don’t call unless you want something. I’m beginning to think our relationship is only one-sided,” Crowley said as he brushed himself off, tugged on his suit jacket to make sure it wasn’t wrinkled. “So, what do you want now?” He asked with an air of irritation in his voice.

Dean regarded Crowley, not answering him. This wasn’t what he’d been expecting. He’d been expecting some lesser demon to work this deal out with.

Crowley smiled at him. “Did you really think a Crossroads demon would actually come when a Winchester called?” Crowley chuckled at the thought. “You’re bad for business, not to mention hazardous to a demon’s wellbeing. No one but me would even venture to take a meeting with you and moose.” Crowley looked past Dean toward the Impala. “Speaking of gigantor, where is he?”

Dean fought and lost against the look of pain that crossed his face at the mention of Sam. “This is between you and me.” His voice was cold as he spoke. “I wanna make a deal.”

Intrigued, Crowley stepped closer. “What type of deal, Dean?”

“One where I sell you my soul.” Dean felt himself sag against his car as the words left his lips.

Crowley tilted his head back and laughed. “I’m sorry, I thought you just offered to sell your soul to strike a deal.”

“I did,” Dean said without emotion.

“Why? What could you possibly want in replace of your soul?” Crowley leaned forward, narrowed his eyes and waited for Dean’s answer. 

“I want you to bring back the love of Sam’s life, Jessica Moore. She was killed by Azazel; and before you tell me you can’t, I know you can.” Dean held up his hand to stop Crowley protesting as he watched the demon’s mouth open to speak. “Don’t. And don’t give me any bullshit that it’s impossible. You’re the King of Hell, I know you can do it.” Dean gave Crowley a pointed look before continuing. “When you bring her back, I want you to give Sam the life he should have had before I dragged him into this. He should have been a lawyer, married, with kids and a dog, living in suburbia - whatever, but safe from the supernatural - nothing comes after him. And . . .”

“What else could there possibly be?” Crowley asked in exasperation.

“I want Sam’s memory wiped. I don’t want him to remember anything from this life, from his past, not even me.” Dean leaned against the Impala and crossed his arms over his chest, letting Crowley know there was no negotiation of these conditions.

“Say I even agree to any of this,” Crowley said as he spread his arms, emphasizing his words. “What do I get out of this deal?”

Dean smiled. It was cold and calculating. “Me,” he said and watched Crowley’s eyes flick over him with interest. “I’ll come back to you, be your Demon Knight again. And, to sweeten this little deal, I’ll give up my soul in six months.” Dean watched as Crowley’s head snapped up, his mouth gaping open. “I just need a few months to get some things in order. Then you can come and collect what’s due.”

“What’s the catch?” Crowley asked as he eyed Dean.

“No catch, just not gonna do this anymore without Sam. He wants out of the life and I want that for him. So, are you interested? Are you ready to give me this deal?” 

As Sam pulled up to the GPS location he’d tracked Dean’s phone to, he looked around. He saw Dean with Crowley. That wasn’t as odd as one would think, they’d worked with Crowley in the past, although they always ended up getting screwed in whatever deal they had struck with the demon. The words deal and Crossroads ran through his mind as he realized just where they were. Shit, this couldn’t be good, he thought to himself. His car came to a screeching stop as he flung the door open. 

 

 

“Dean, what are you doing?” Sam questioned as he stepped out of his car, slamming the door closed. 

Crowley turned his attention briefly to Sam, extended his hand out and slammed Sam back against the car without physically touching him. 

“Samantha, stay out of this,” Crowley said, turning his attention back to Dean.

Dean glanced at Sam briefly before answering him. “I’m getting out of your life, like you want.”

“Dean, don’t do this,” Sam pleaded with him, his voice was rough with emotion.  “Please, you don’t have to do this. What I said . . . what I said, I was wrong. I didn’t mean it!” Sam grunted out as he tried to pry his body from the car he was currently being held against. Fucking demon power, his mind raged.

“Oh, but you did,” Dean said quietly, feeling a little piece of his heart chip away, remembering the words that Sam had spat out at him. It didn’t matter if they had been said in the heat of an argument, the words had been said and he knew Sam harbored this hatred toward him. There was no way of taking them back. The pain Sam felt every day, what Sam lived with every day, it was his fault. He was the reason Jessica was dead. If he had never gone after Sam that night, asked for his help, she would still be alive. He would never be able to look into his brother’s eyes and not recall those spoken words. He would never be able to look past the hurt and hatred in Sam’s eyes. There was no going back, and he knew there was no way they would be able to move forward. There would always be a rift between them. No amount of alcohol would drown out what he knew. They could hunt together, live together but they would never be what they had been before last night. 

Dean looked at Sam, sympathy in his eyes as he stared at his brother for a moment before turning back to Crowley. “What wouldn’t you do for your family, what won’t you do to save them, get them back?” He questioned as he looked at Crowley. “Let’s do this, I’m ready.”

“You’re sure about this?” Crowley asked, his normal cockiness replaced with actual concern.

Dean chuckled at him. “Oh, Crowley, it almost sounds like you care.” Dean threw a glance over his shoulder at Sam. It would be one of the last looks he gave to his brother, the man who knew and remembered him. After this, after he did the unthinkable, they would be strangers. Sam would no longer know who he was or what he had meant to him. He closed his eyes and took it all in, what that meant to him. He would be alone. He could live with that since he wouldn’t have long to live - another little perk of this deal. He had already lost so many people in his life that he loved, what was one more as far as he was concerned? He would have precious little time to mourn the loss of his brother if this deal went through the way he planned. 

Dean heard Sam struggling to get free of Crowley’s hold. He looked over at his brother, he saw pain etched into Sam’s face before looking back at Crowley. “Don’t hurt him,” he whispered for only the demon and himself to hear.

Crowley nodded at him. “Of course not. We’re not here for that, are we?” He murmured to Dean. With a snap of his fingers, he produced the contract that Dean had requested. He handed it over to Dean and watched as the man read it over.

Dean squared his shoulders and focused his attention on Crowley. He willed himself not to turn back to his brother, not to check on him or even back out of the reason he was here.

Dean shook his head. “I gotta make this right,” he mumbled to himself as he closed the distance between himself and Crowley. 

“DEAN!” Sam screamed in the background, trying to get Dean’s attention. “Don’t do this!”

“Satisfied with the terms of are agreement?” Crowley asked as Dean looked up from having read the contract.

Dean nodded his approval as he withdrew his knife from his back pocket and cut his finger. He used his blood to sign on the line at the end of the contract before handing it back to the demon. “We square?”

“Just gotta seal the deal with a kiss, like always.” Crowley smiled at him, but it was devoid of humor, bordering on sympathetic. He sensed the pain and turmoil within Dean. For a moment he nearly backed out of the deal, but the look in Dean’s eyes spoke volumes - hurt, betrayal, love and devotion - all for Sam. 

Dean stepped into Crowley’s space and kissed him on the lips. He pulled back from Crowley and wiped his lips with the back of his hand.

“It’s done,” Crowley said as he pocketed the contract and turned away from Dean. He cast a look over his shoulder at the brothers before snapping his fingers, releasing Sam from his hold and disappearing.

The air crackled with electricity and Dean thought he heard Sam screaming before he was deafened momentarily by a loud buzzing inside his head. When his head cleared, and he had regained his hearing, he finally turned his attention to where he knew Sam had been.

Sam stood by a shiny silver four-door SUV, giving him a concerned look. His head was cocked to one side as Sam regarded him, like he was trying to figure something out.

“Sam?” Jess’ voice called from the passenger’s side of the car. The door was pushed opened and she stepped out, placing both hands on the top of the door frame as she looked between Sam and the man he was standing near. “Is he alright?” Jess asked as she waited for Sam to answer her.

Sam’s eyes swept up and down the man before him. He seemed familiar, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on where he knew the man from. He looked over at Jess and gave her a reassuring smile. He could see the concern on his girlfriend’s face. 

“Are you okay? Did you have an accident? Do you need us to call someone for you?” Sam asked out of genuine concern. 

Dean forced himself not to laugh at the irony of Sam’s last question. The only person who he’d ever call was standing in front of him. Except, the man no longer had any idea who he was. 

“No, I just pulled off to get some shut eye. I’ve been driving for a long time, and you and your lovely girlfriend stopped to check on me. There’s no need to call anyone. I’m fine. I was about to get back on the road.” Dean turned away before saying the words he felt were on the tip of his tongue, that there was no one in his life to call, not any more. 

Sam reached out, but stopped himself from touching the man. “Do we know each other?” Sam asked, his brows furrowed as he wracked his brain trying to recall where he knew this man from.

Dean shot him a pained smiled and shook his head. “No, no we don’t. Uh, but thanks for stopping.” Dean said as he turned and walked back to his car. He gave Sam and Jess a wave before getting behind the wheel of the Impala. He looked over at the empty seat next to himself. He felt his heart stutter in his chest. He forced himself to breathe as he reminded himself why he had done the thing he had just done. Why he had struck that damn deal. He was giving Sam a chance at his happily ever after - the thing Sam deserved the most. He reached up and adjusted the rear view mirror and saw Sam lean over and kiss Jess as they sat in the SUV. He smiled at seeing that. While it hurt in a way he never thought possible, he was happy to see Sam like this; happy and carefree. He turned the key in the ignition and listened to the purr of his beloved baby. He took comfort in that familiar sound. At least he still had his car he thought to himself as he dropped the car into drive and pulled back onto the road. At least the last image of Sam he had would be one of Sam and his happiness with Jess by his side. He drove away, feeling the loss and heartbreak at leaving Sam. The only thing that gave him any comfort was knowing Sam would live a long life away from the supernatural.

He pressed his foot to the gas pedal urging the Impala to drive faster. He had a lot of living to do before his six months were up.

 

 


End file.
